


Darling, So It Goes (Some Things Are Meant To Be)

by notchason



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Crushes, Enemies to Lovers, First Dance, First Kiss, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notchason/pseuds/notchason
Summary: Alexander hated the idea of prom; hated the flashy lights, the crowd. But deep down, he really didn't want to go because nobody ever wanted to go with him. Not to the Homecoming dance, the Winter's Ball, and definitely not to prom, of all things.In hindsight, maybe he was wrong.





	Darling, So It Goes (Some Things Are Meant To Be)

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I wrote this to try and get rid of my writer's block, which I did. But, I ended up really liking this, so might as well put it up, eh?
> 
> 2\. Even though anxiety is mentioned couple of times in here, it is not referring to the mental illness, rather to the emotion (i.e. "I felt anxious before taking the test")
> 
> 3\. John and Peggy aren't a couple here, just friends. Their scenes gave off kinda relationship-y vibes, so thought I might as well clear this up.
> 
> 4\. I don't live in America/English-speaking country, on top of which we don't actually have prom. I am so sorry if I mess up on terminology, because I haven't a clue about the prom queen/king speeches, and everything I wrote at that particular part is whatever I could recall at the top of my head from Disney movies. :')

Alexander Hamilton never once in his life wanted to go to the prom. He knew that he doesn’t wanna go since freshman year, so naturally, he scoffed and snickered at the other kids sweating to get a date in three weeks time. Well, all except two kids of people – ones that are already in a relationship, and the ones that are so filthy popular that they can sneeze and have a crowd gathered around them complimenting how nice the sneeze was, and then offering them tissues.

Maybe he was over exaggerating.

He knew that Lafayette and Hercules will be going, of course, that much was obvious. They were the power couple of the school, honestly. Alexander envied them (just a little). Then of course, there were Maria and Eliza, aka his two exes that got together last semester. They were still friends, so of course Alexander knew they were going too. John, who actually didn’t have a proper date, is going with Peggy as friends. Of course, nobody will laugh at him (as they do to other friends that go together to prom) because everybody knows John, and everybody absolutely loves John. Angelica will most likely be crowned prom queen, even though she isn’t in a relationship, having broken up with John Church in junior year. Then there’s Burr, whose going with a transfer by the name of Theodosia, from England. God knows what she finds appealing in Burr. Then there’s Madison, who everybody likes all the same as John, because they’re both small and… lovable. Jefferson, the man he proclaimed was his arch nemesis but he’s not really anymore, is going with his girlfriend, Martha Wayles.

In short, everybody’s got somebody, so why should Alexander make a fool of himself by going solo?

Exactly.

**

“Aw come on, mon petit lion,” Lafayette tilted his head, “What do you mean, you won’t go?”

“Simple as that,” Alexander murmured, “I mean, let’s be real. Look at me. Tiny, scrawny boy with a bandage over his nose and a white plaster on the side of his face because he can’t manage his anger. Also, loud-mouthed rat that has a need to verbally and physically fight everybody,” Alexander closed his locked as if to punctuate his statement. He looked at Lafayette with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you sure? You are probably going to be the only senior not to go,” Lafayette gave it a thought, “Well, you and Adams. Do you really want to fall in the same social category as Adams?”

“I don’t even care at this point,” Alexander shrugged, biting into a chocolate bar and strolling towards the French classroom, with an incessant Frenchman on his tail. He sighed. This was going to be a long, long day.

**

“So,” somebody shut his locker in front of his nose, making him flinch, “who’s your prom date?” Alexander gritted his teeth in frustration, blinked and sighed. Of course it was Jefferson who would come and pester him at the end of the day. The Virginian was leaned against the lockers, one of his legs crossing the other, as well as his arms across his front. He was smirking lazily at the immigrant, the gesture itself wasn’t as self-absorbed as usual, which was odd, the very least.

“Why do you care?” Alexander snapped, arching an eyebrow. He could swear he saw a flash of hurt on Jefferson’s face, but it was fleeting – if it even happened. This was Jefferson – so probably not.

“Calm down, short stack, I was just curious,” Jefferson’s face morphed into something predatory, “Wondered which lucky girl will have the chance to accompany the school’s most desired bachelor to prom.”

Alexander jammed his locker shut, “Piss the fuck off, Jefferson, I don’t need your shit today.”  
“Or what?” Jefferson kept teasing, an open invitation for Alexander to punch him in the face… which will not happen, because he’s an adult who knows of self-control. Sure.

“I don’t have time or nerve for this,” Alexander flipped the southerner off and sauntered away in the opposite direction of the man, hoping he’d get the hint and kindly fuck off.

**

Fast froward to three days until prom. Alexander… Alexander found out that he’s weak. His determination not to go crumbled beneath Eliza’s and John’s puppy eyes, Lafayette’s encouraging words and Hercules’ attempts to sew him a suit.

It all worked, obviously, much to his dismay, but there he was now, sitting in the back of Lafayette’s rented limo (who is even pretentious enough to get a limo for prom? Probably Jefferson, sure, but Lafayette? Then again, they were cousins, and Lafayette was probably even richer than Jefferson. It must be a family trait to spend a ton of money to show off. Not that Lafayette did that often. Jefferson, on the other hand…) But enough. He won’t ruin this already God awful experience by thinking about Jefferson, right now. He’ll concentrate on the friends that surround him – Maria, whose head is currently thrown back as she drained John’s (John’s dad’s) hip flask. Not the smartest idea, but Alexander finds it more appealing by the second. Eliza looking at Maria with a completely smitten expression, the way the used to look at Alexander. Then, John and Peggy cracking jokes and laughing like maniacs, Hercules with a Lafayette draped across his lap. Angelica eyeing them all but saying nothing… and Alexander, nervously sitting in the corner, fiddling his fingers in his lap.

This is going to be a long night.

**

Upon entering the crowded room, Alexander already wanted to race back home, screaming in utter terror. This… things like these weren’t his forte. Almost immediately, Lafayette pulled Hercules to the dance floor. Angelica shrugged and took Eliza towards the punch bowl. John swung an arm around Peggy’s and Alexander’s shoulders, shouting as to drown out the loudness of the music, “Wanna dance?” Alexander rolled his eyes fondly, and attempted to shake his head, but by the time he gave John a response, Peggy already agreed and pulled both of them towards the middle of the room.

Peggy was most likely the youngest person at the prom. She’s a junior, while both of her sisters are seniors, as well as everyone else. Eliza might be close second to her, as she just barely crossed the required age to be in this year. Angelica is probably one of the eldest kids, having turned nineteen just barely over a month ago.

Peggy and John danced like the world had vanished, and even though Alexander was with them in the first place, he very soon felt like a third wheel. He backed away slowly, and took a seat on the bleachers, high enough to have the full supervision of the room and to be far enough to avoid the danger of having something spilled onto him, but close enough to just barely hear people’s whispering, eager to perhaps learn some new gossip.

Soon enough, he caught the sight of something… mildly interesting. Just enough to drown his growing boredom. He saw Jefferson and Madison retreat from the dance floor, Martha being nowhere in sight. Jefferson looked confused, maybe, and perhaps a little disheartened. He saw him looking around, tiptoeing in place as he scanned the room. Whatever he was looking for (or whomever) was apparently not here or hidden far from sight, leaving him obviously distressed. Maybe Alexander was over-exaggerating again; maybe what he felt wasn’t as extreme as ‘distress’. Maybe it was just plain old disappointment.

Briefly Jefferson looked at him, then back and Madison, and then both Virginians glanced at him. They were probably trash-talking him, Alexander was certain. What else could it be? He wasn’t in a good position right now, so the only thing to do to let them know he _knew_ that _he_ was the object of their discussion, Alexander decided, was to have an impromptu staring match with either of them, or both of them. Madison, upon realizing what Alexander was aiming to do, looked away, shaking his head, a clear signal that he was out to have a good time and definitely wasn’t looking for an incident with one Alexander Hamilton.

Jefferson, on the other hand, shifted his posture so that his whole boy was facing Alexander now, and he tilted his head, squinting. An open declaration of war if Alexander’s ever seen one (again, he should seek help for his issues with making big deals out of minor things). Alexander squinted back, and just as it got intense, he felt a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and thus letting Jefferson win. He’ll get him back the next time, Alexander decides, upon seeing Eliza. She was out of breath and her hair was in utter disarray, but she seemed beyond happy. And Eliza’s happiness was really something otherworldly. It was contagious, and on cue, Alexander smiled back, “What gives?” he asked, thankful that they’re far enough from the stereo and the speakers to be able to talk in semi-normal volume. She giggled, “Nothing. Why don’t you come down? Prom queen and king will be named any minute now.”

“Oh,” Alexander said, “Sure, I suppose. Who did you vote for?”

“Maria for the queen,” Eliza blushed, “and Lafayette for the king. You?”

“I-I didn’t. I forgot, I suppose,” Alexander tugged on the collar of his button-up, trying to loosen it with no help. The crowd was gathering quickly, and soon they were completely surrounded by people. He felt a little anxious, but thanks to Eliza by his side, it wasn’t as intense as usual. A man in a perfectly tailored red suit walked on the stage. By his short blonde hair and blue eyes, Alexander recognized him before he even got to speak – George Frederick, the son of the principle and the biggest snob of the school (yeah, he even beats Jefferson. Which does say a lot). He cleared his throat, his plummy voice echoing through the room as every other sound seemed to die down, “The prom queen of the classes of 2017 is…” he opened the envelope, the paper crinkling near the mic, “… Angelica Schuyler.” The students clapped, but nobody was shocked. Most of them offered her friendly smiles, shouted a passing ‘congrats!’ and some shook her hand even, while select few girls pouted in the corners. Angelica climbed up the stage, graceful as ever, her pink dress actually glimmering under the bright reflector lights. She bowed her head so that George could put the crown on her head, and smiled at the audience. She held a short speech, presumably at the top of her head, even though it sounded as if it was planned months ago (Angie was just that good, Alexander knew) and then George proceeded to clear his throat again, quite frankly, rudely interrupting the girl on stage. She shot him a look but he just shrugged, while Samuel Seabury handed him the other envelope. “And finally, the prom king of the classes of 2017 is…” again, everybody held their breath as if they didn’t already know whose name will it be on the paper, “… Thomas Jefferson!” Bingo, Alexander thought bitterly. He tried to muster the most hateful look he could manage, while watching Jefferson get up on that stage next to Angelica. While in reality, he kind of liked Jefferson’s look with the crown. He tucked that bit of information in a far corner of his mind, only focusing on the stage now, and not on his emotions. The latter never seemed to do him any good, and now was not a good time for a mental breakdown. He didn’t even register George asking for people to make some room on the dance floor for the traditional king and queen’s dance, until somebody harshly tugged on his arm. He spun around to face his attacker, but turns out it was just Hercules. Well. That was embarrassing.

He watched the two dance with a little envy, an emotion that appeared out of the blue, very suddenly and he didn’t know what to think of it. _Don’t think now, don’t think now_ , echoed in his mind. He watched Jefferson offer Angelica a hand and she took it, the two of them bowing at one another as if it was rehearsed. Jefferson then pulled Angelica towards himself, and they were so close that their torsos were touching as they danced. Angelica swung her hips with grace, and Jefferson’s firm statue perfectly balanced the softness of Angelica’s movements. It was utter beauty and the burning pain of thousand suns, wrapped into a single dance, into a single set of simple motions. What probably was the insult to injury was the way Jefferson looked at Angelica, as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered right now. And with that, Alexander drew the conclusion that Jefferson wasn’t the one he was jealous of – Angelica was. In this moment, probably a result of too much noise and punch that messed with his mind, he wanted to dance with Jefferson.

Or no. He wanted to dance with _Thomas_.

**

People scattered when the music stopped, which was to be expected. It was getting pretty late, and they still do have school tomorrow. Alexander was among the last people to stay. Unfortunately, Laf and Hercules drove off with the limo while the king-queen dance still lasted, John, Peggy and Angelica got a ride from John Jay, Eliza and Maria were picked up by Maria’s father, and he was left alone. They probably forgot him, which was totally fine. He was still sitting on the bleachers with his phone in his hands. He knew he had to leave soon, but he just didn’t have the strength to do so. And he was threading on thin ice, really, because his battery power was 7%. He knows he will eventually be kicked out by staff, and he decided that he’ll leave then. His emotions have taken a toll on him tonight, something he didn’t anticipate to happen in a million years. He was surprisingly not freaking out, to be honest. He supposes it’s the punch mixed with his fatigue, making his mind gloomy enough not to freak out. Tomorrow, though… tomorrow will likely be an emotional roller coaster.

But hey, what else is new?

He heard footsteps coming from his left, but he didn’t look up. He only barely acknowledged the person when they reached him, with a disinterested, “Hm?”

“Hamilton,” he heard a familiar drawl and his head shot up. Jefferson stood there, looking as perfect as ever from this close up.

“Jefferson,” he quipped back, giving him a not-friendly once-over, “What is it that you need from me?”

For the first time since Alexander knew him, Jefferson seemed rather nervous. There wasn’t a condescending smirk on his face, his eyebrows weren’t knitted in a frown, nor were his mouth in a thin line – because if he wasn’t looking down upon Hamilton with sickening delight, he was shooting holes in the back of his neck with the signature hateful grimace. So this was new. Okay. They were threading on unknown territory, and both of them seemed to know it, at the moment. Alexander clutched the phone in his hands even firmer, using it as some kind of crutch, somewhat because he was anxious about this whole ordeal, somewhat because he fears he might punch Jefferson on impulse if the man gets to close.

“I don’t have the whole night, Jefferson,” Alexander said lowly.

“Right,” Jefferson said, quiet enough for Alexander to assume he said it to himself, “I wanted to ask you something… um,” Jefferson scratched at the nape of his neck, “Fancy a dance with me?”

Alexander was dumbfounded. He felt himself tense, and he was scared that his phone screen might actually crack under pressure. Jefferson asked him to dance. Or, Thomas asked him to dance. Wasn’t that what he desired only an hour or so ago? So what was the problem now? “Is this a joke?” he asked, his jaw clenched as he bit out the sentence, his tone dripping with unnecessary aggression.

“No,” Jefferson said shortly, his face expressionless as he stood in front of the smaller man.

“Even if I agreed to dance,” Alexander saw the fucker light up at the possibility, cursing himself for thinking that Jefferson looks cute like this – even if the thought lasted for a fleeting moment, “The _dance_ is over. You could have asked me anytime during the past couple of hours, yet you didn’t. You saw me sitting on this exact spot yet you opted to rather have a stare-off,” he hissed out.

Jefferson hugged himself, “I suppose I did.”

“And besides, where’s Martha? You know, your girlfriend?” Alexander asked pointedly, still feeling anxiety in the every fiber of his being.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jefferson said nonchalantly, “she moved back to Virginia with her folks three weeks ago, something like that. We came to the mutual agreement of breaking up, for the sake of not getting ourselves into something that we can’t handle, i.e. a long distance relationship,” damn. Alexander suddenly felt awkward, given how freely Jefferson spoke to him, without any malice behind his words for once in his life, without punctuating the sentence with a biting remark or a taunt. They were having a less-than-pleasant conversation, which was a first. But now when Alexander gives it a thought, it is not entirely unwelcome.

“Oh,” Alexander blurted out intelligently, “But my statement still stands. The dance itself is over, they’re going to chase us out any moment now,” he shrugged.

“Nope,” Jefferson said, a little self-satisfied smirk on his face, but it was something that Alexander was willing to look over as long as it wasn’t directed at his suffering.

“What do you mean?” He gave in to the obvious bait.

“I mean,” Jefferson started, taking a deep breath, as if he was nervous, “I have connections. I used those to make the committee let us stay a little longer,” he looked at his wrist watch, “We have another hour for ourselves,” he added awkwardly, “That is, if you want to stay.”

Alexander was silent for a long moment, looking away from his Jefferson. He entertained the idea – it could be fun. Besides, wasn’t dancing with Jefferson what he thought about all night? It couldn’t do any harm, surely, right? Just… just a dance. For whatever reason. Alexander still isn’t sure why Thomas offered, and he sure as hell wasn’t sure what was he thinking when he nodded shyly, “Okay. Sure, I’ll dance with you.” Motherfucker lit up like a Christmas tree, which somewhat amused Alexander, as he stood up. Thomas beamed up at him, one arm behind his back as the offered the other to the shorter man. Alexander gladly accepted the offer and the two of them walked towards the lonely podium. Thomas snapped his fingers, and just like that, music started playing.

Alexander snorted unattractively as they began swinging to the rhythm, Thomas’ hands on his hips and his own hands casually laid on the man’s shoulders, “Elvis? _Really?_ ”

“What?” Thomas mocked offense, “Don’t tell me you don’t like Elvis Presley!” Alexander felt a slight tug on his hips, and Thomas subtly brought him closer.

“It’s not that… it’s just, I never pegged you to be a fan of ‘Falling in love with you’, is all,” he cringed at his stupidity.

“We can change the song -” Thomas’ body stilled, his smile vanishing from sight.

“No- no, please,” Alexander reassured, “I can dig Elvis.”

Thomas’ smile returned, “Good,” he said, and the second time, probably to himself, “that’s good.”

_Like the river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be…_

Alexander heard Thomas faintly humming along with the song, a gesture he found endlessly adorable, and then a little concerning, for it came from the big, macho Thomas Jefferson. Perhaps Thomas had a hidden side that loved rom-coms and chick flicks, walking in the park and holdings hands, and… and Alexander was getting ahead of himself. This particular train of thought left a sour taste in his mouth, and he wasn’t aware of how his face had dropped, until he felt fingertips brush his chin and gently directing him to look up. It was Thomas, of course, because he apparently turned into a saint overnight. “You okay?” he asked, voice riddled with worry. Alexander let his face soften again, “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Thomas confirmed.

**

When another three songs ended, Alexander felt his body go lax in favor of sleep. This evening was peculiar enough without him passing out in the arms of Thomas Jefferson, so he quickly made a decision of requesting the other boy to take him home. Thomas nodded without protest, grabbing Alexander’s hand and taking them out of the room.

Once they arrived to Alexander’s house in Thomas’ fancy car, Alexander was already reaching to open the door of the car. He felt a hand on his tight and quickly turned around, only to see Thomas profusely blushing. He was immediately smitten, something he’ll hate himself for as soon as he gets up into his room undoubtedly, but he’ll enjoy in the sensation as long as he could. He arched an eyebrow at him, and Thomas cleared his throat, “I was um, wondering if, um – you’d maybe -” he stopped, “Nah, forget it. G’night.”

“No, come on, spit it out,” Alexander encouraged, “Don’t shy away _now_.”

He exhaled and in one quick breath said, “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

A heavy silence fell upon them. Alexander felt the awkwardness growing thicker. He wanted it, so why did he hesitate now. _Don’t shy away now_ , his own words echoed back at him. He nodded twice, eyes on Thomas as the boy leaned across the seat, cupping his head gently with one hand and tilting his face to press a chaste but lingering kiss on Alexander’s lips.

“See you tomorrow,” Thomas said as Alexander shut the door.

Through the open window, Alexander managed, “See you then.”

**

Alexander subconsciously traced his lips with the two of his fingers, trying to replicate the pressure and heat Thomas’ lips created on his own, but without much success. He wondered how will thinks be between the two of them tomorrow.

He didn’t fall asleep easily that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave comments, please, for I crave validation
> 
> <3 thanks for reading


End file.
